play to the rhythm of my heart
by gsdlover1623
Summary: Drumline AU. Artemis Crock does not like the way her sticks hit against the drumhead of her new snare. She does not like the way her former drum captain, Cameron, is trying to convince her to botch the band's last competition. And, most of all, she does not like Wally West.
1. chapter one

**AN: BETA! I NEED A BETA! BETA BETA BETA! Review or PM me if you're interested. Thanks!**

**I don't even know. Band camp happened and gave me very, very bad ideas... 'Whispers in the Wind' chapter is still in the works. I just have to do the last fight scene and I'm good, but that may take a while. Sorry for the wait. **

**Disclaimer: Young Justice belongs to Warner Bros. or whoever owns it. Not me.**

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The letter sweeps into the Crock household with vengeance, its full wrath not revealed until it lands itself into the recipient's hands, much to Artemis's expedient chagrin, because the moment she sees those four words written in elegant font in the top left corner, her stomach flips and her hands scramble into motion, tearing at the envelope until she has a hole that is just big enough to jerk the crisp, white paper through.

_'Congratulations!_' is the first thing she sees, which does nothing to ease her worries.

Cautiously, grey eyes narrowed in concentration, she reads on, raising a single finger to silence the many questions her mother is tossing her way. Her stomach feels like it is on a trapeze as she glances over the red and blue crest of the prestigious Happy Harbor High School, which, to her, just looked like a fancy 'S'. She skips directly to the body of the letter and almost topples over when she reads the first sentence.

_Dear Artemis Crock, _

_It is our pleasure to inform you that your transfer to Happy Harbor High School has been accepted and you are scheduled to attend this school year! _

_"No. Fucking. Way._" Artemis's voice comes out barely above a whisper and in her state of stiff-backed shock, she can see her mom wheeling towards her. Paula doubles over and snatches up the demolished envelope that Artemis had carelessly tossed to the floor only moments before, and the pure joy that radiates from her face immediately puts Artemis on edge. Surely, her mom isn't thinking…

"Artemis? Why do you have a letter from Happy Harbor? _Artemis_!" The urgent, yet sickeningly happy, tone finally breaks Artemis out of her trance and she hurriedly turns to the paper still clenched in her hands, eyes dashing back and forth along each line. The paragraph is short, which the teen is thankful for because she wants to know what the hell is going on and she wants to know now.

_Dear Artemis Crock, _

_It is our pleasure to inform you that your transfer to Happy Harbor HIgh School has been accepted and you are scheduled to attend this school year! Open house is on Thursday, August 19, and classes begin on Wednesday, August 25. Your schedule is included within the envelope and we look forward to having you join us this year! Go Bumblebees! _

The overuse of explanation points makes Artemis want to puke because how can they be so damn cheerful when they obviously made a huge mistake? She certainly never applied for a transfer and her mom would have told her if she had, so somewhere, there is probably another, much more nerdy, Artemis Crock sitting beside the mailbox, waiting for the very letter that Artemis holds in her hands.

Artemis decides that she should find the right address and send it because the other Artemis Crock - who is definitely a brunette because two blonde Artemis Crocks would just be creepy - will probably be dying to know whether or not her transfer was accepted.

A feathery touch upon her wrist pulls Artemis out of her musings and she looks down to see the curious gaze of her mother, whose thin fingers are still clutching that wrinkled piece of paper like it's her lifeline. "Artemis? What does it _say_?"

Swallowing down her dread and the knot in her throat, Artemis drops both hands to her side and says with much more assurance than is currently in her body right now, "It's nothing, Mom. They just made some mistake and think I'm leaving Gotham North for their school. No big deal."

Paula's eyes nearly double in size, and the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth deepen as she smiles, an action that Artemis would normally copy for no reason whatsoever. This time she doesn't though, instead choosing to take a tentative half step back. "Mom… You aren't thinking what I think you're thinking, right?" A disgruntled expression settles on her face as her mom wheels forward and her letter-free hand is suddenly being grasped in a strong and steady grip.

"Oh, Artemis! That is _wonderful_ news! The teachers are so much more experienced and the students are supposed to be the best there-"

"Wait a second," Artemis cuts in. "You're…actually making me go?" She knows deep down that, somewhere, that nerdy, brunette Artemis Crock doesn't exist, so there's no point bringing that up in an argument, but that doesn't mean she has to go.

"Why of course!" The opportunity is-"

"Stupid! I don't _want_ to go to Happy Harbor!" Artemis is fully aware that she sounds like a spoiled brat and that she shouldn't have pulled away from her mom's hand so harshly, but she can't find it in herself to care because of the terror racing throughout her veins like ice. "Mom, this is the year we finally have a chance to win our competitions! Cam needs me!"

"Drumline is just a _hobby_, Artemis," Paula rebukes, fist slamming down on the armrests of her wheelchair and eyes flashing to a steely color, and Artemis chokes on her own spit because her mother should know it's so much more than that, to _her_, at least. "There is a band at this school, and the education they can offer you is so much better than Gotham North's! They are giving you a chance to better your life instead of just banging sticks around for scholarships! If you won't do it for me, then at least do it for yourself!" Her fists clank against the black plastic of her chair again, but noticeably harder, and Artemis momentarily forgets how her mom just insulted her drumming, instead focusing on the fact that her mom is here, caring for her, when she hasn't seen her dad in two years.

Dropping down to one knee, she extends a single, callused hand to cover the top of Paula's own. "I - okay, Mom. I'll go. I'll go to Happy Harbor." Artemis's throat catches and she has to bite her lip to keep from shouting out a denial of her former statement.

Large, watery eyes rise up to look at Artemis and the edges of her lips tug upward just barely. Two seconds pass before Paula's upper body lunges forward and her skinny arms wrap around Artemis's neck in an incredibly tight hold.

The touch is comforting and Artemis's chin comes to rest on the top of her mom's shoulder, arms snaking around her sides. Her eyes close, teeth digging harder into her lip because otherwise she might lose her composure and that is not listed in Artemis's to-do list at the moment.

Finally, Artemis feels her mom slowly pull away, still keeping a hold of her hand as she stands. Shaky grins are exchanged and suddenly Artemis needs to get out of that room because the expectations shoving her around are almost overwhelming and both her fingers and her mouth are itching to move.

Almost breathlessly, Artemis mumbles, "I better go call Cam. Let him know," and waves around the paper that hasn't been released from her thumb and forefinger since she first laid eyes on it. Paula nods, squeezing her daughter's hand one last time before Artemis stands and rushes out of the room. She needs to talk to someone who actually understands and Cameron sounds like the perfect fit.

Artemis leaves the room so suddenly, she doesn't notice the tear that drops onto the ripped envelope her mom is still fingering or the relieved smile smeared across her face.

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**AN: Updates will be sporadic. Reviews, follows, and favorites will be appreciated. Spitfire needs will be filled - hopefully. That is all.**

**-GSDLover**


	2. chapter two

**AN: Alright, the meeting of the Spitfire time. Fingers crossed it doesn't come off as rushed.**

****Please don't hesitate to ask me any questions about or correct me on any of the musical aspects. I will be happy to answer and/or correct anything.****

**Thanks to Splazin101 for betaing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice. DC Comics or Greg Weisman or Warner Bros. or someone like that does.**

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The heels on Artemis's boots click ominously against the metal fire escape as she ascends, hands clenched around the worn, green straps of her book bag and pieces of hair that had managed to escape her ponytail dancing upon the back of her neck.

In the back of her mind, she is counting. Counting the number of steps until she is no longer a Shadow, but a Bumblebee, playing in a new uniform each year and only performing with the best equipment possible. The thought is as sickening as it is exciting and when she reaches the small landing that allows the staircase to double back on itself, Artemis detaches her hands from her book bag and secures them around the rusty railing, ignoring the few students that are clanking past her and continuing upward.

It's strange, Artemis muses as her thumb rubs along a particularly large spot where the black paint has chipped away to reveal a dull grey, that even with enough money to purchase quads, snares, basses, or the occasional tuba on mere whims, the infamous Mr. Wayne can't seem to afford a simple paint job for the main way the students reach the band room.

Taking a deep breath, Artemis pushes off from the railing and takes the stairs two at a time, hands now clenched at her sides, while she inwardly starts counting by twos to match her hurried pace.

_12...14...16_...

It only takes her a few seconds to reach the door, which seems to be in the same rough condition as the rest of the fire escape, and Artemis flings it open, blinking at the sudden blast of air conditioning that sweeps along her face and down her arms, showering her in chilly kisses and cool embraces.

The complete change in temperature is almost enough to make her forget about where she is what she is doing, but the large cartoon bee on the door in front of her reminds Artemis that she is in enemy territory and needs to tread carefully. (Though, why someone found it necessary to draw fangs and large pointed ears on the poor, unsuspecting insect with a Sharpie is beyond her.)

There is a hallway to Artemis's left that leads to another door labeled "Chorus!" in the big, colorful letters that teachers seemed to love, and a beige wall with only a scuff mark or two to make in interesting to her right. Directly in front of her, the Sharpie-mutated bee that Artemis is already beginning to hold resentment for smiles at her, beckoning the blonde towards the door it is displayed on. Slowly, and her hands are definitely _not_ shaking, Artemis grasps the silver handle and pulls down, listening to the click it gives with tensed shoulders and baited breath.

She pulls, and slipping through the foot wide gap her tug provided, somehow isn't surprised to find the room she enters in pure and utter chaos.

It's arranged with four giant steps leading to the windows at the back, and a few pieces of popcorn are raining down onto the Pit at the far side of the room, their trajectories suggesting that the innocent-looking boy with a sweet smile and bright green hair had been the one to throw them.

Artemis has to jump aside to avoid the Cheerios that are flung her way and somewhere in the midst of moving bodies and unbearably noisy instruments, she is pretty sure she sees a skinny blonde girl running around with a piccolo stuck up her nose.

A paper ball ricochets off an award, one of many that adorn the cinderblock walls, and Artemis watches as it jiggles precariously. The timpani are being bombarded by mallets, making it feel like there's thunder inside Artemis's head, racing along her body and vibrating her bones. The blast of trumpets creates an interesting harmonization, and the low sound of a tuba playing the 'Jaws' theme song can barely be heard.

Then, just as suddenly as when the noise had originally attacked Artemis upon her arrival, it stops, and everyone is standing stock still, facing the door that connects into the rest of the school. Craning her neck, Artemis's eyebrows raise in surprise at what she sees.

A tall man, wearing expensive clothes that complement his muscular features nicely, stands, arms crossed over his chest and something akin to a dark smirk decorating his face. His dark hair is combed back and his cheekbones are poised regally under his pale skin. All in all, he is an impressive and intimidating figure, one that Artemis recognizes immediately from her last competition in freshman year.

He had been the one to carry the first place trophy back to the Happy Harbor High School busses, a fact that Artemis is sure of because she had watched the trophy so carefully after it had been revealed, captivated by the title it presented to the band that received it.

Mr. Wayne's eyes flit along the crowd gathered, and Artemis is shocked by the chilly demeanor of his light blue eyes when he looks to her. The way his broad shoulders are set and how his chin is always held high urges Artemis to run and hide, to get away from the terrifying image in front of her.

The image is effectively ruined when there is movement at Mr. Wayne's side and a small, dark-haired boy dashes out into the open. He runs at Artemis, causing several scenarios of harmful collisions to flash through her head, but turns at the last second, somehow managing to jump onto the top step, which is a good four feet high, in a single effortless bound.

He takes a total of two steps before grabbing onto a doorframe that Artemis hadn't noticed before and swinging inside the newly revealed room with gusto, leaving Artemis to stand there gawking like an idiot. The sight of a crazy kid sprinting around must be a normal one, because no one besides Artemis even bats an eyelash and she wonders incredulously how even the _freshman_ seem so used to it.

Mr. Wayne clears his throat, an impossibly loud '_ahem'_ echoing throughout the room, and Artemis reluctantly turns her attention back to him. After all, an amazingly scary man that makes her dad look like a Build-a-Bear isn't _that_ special a sight compared to someone who obviously has a future as one of those people who run naked across a football field right after games.

For the first time, Artemis hears Mr. Wayne speak and she's surprised by how normal he sounds instead of _'the growls of a thousand demons and the shrieking of a thousand souls'_ as Cam had once described to her. The fact that his lips are actually tilting upward like he's _smiling_ or something blows her mind, too, and for the first time, a seed of doubt directed at something Cam had said is implanted in her mind. It is not a welcome feeling.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to another year of band camp. I'll cut right to the chase since your guardian will be the one responsible for listening to me explain all the paperwork." Chuckles reach Artemis's ears and she frowns because there isn't anything particularly _funny _about that statement. She finds it odd that Mr. Wayne had said 'guardian' instead of 'parents' like all the other teachers, but the man is bound to have more than a few quirks. Maybe there is just some hidden joke that Artemis failed to catch, or maybe the band had simply learned to live with what black humor comes out of Mr. Wayne's mouth and go with it.

"We'll split off into sectionals to do warm-ups, then reconvene after an hour. No more and no less. Your section leaders will hand out your music and explain the theme. Understood?" Artemis gets dizzy by the abundance of nods present in the room and she finds herself bobbing her head, too, for some odd reason. The stupid school must already be starting to get to her. "Good. Get to work." Mr. Wayne claps loudly and stalks out the far door, and suddenly the room breaks into chaos once again.

Artemis backs up, half of her back on the white concrete wall, and the other half pressed against the worn wood of the door, and she thinks that just staying like that for the next nine hours sounds like a wonderful idea. She doesn't know where her section even _is_, so how is she supposed to warm up? Nodding to herself, because _exactly, she can't do anything until she finds her section,_ Artemis watches with forced calmness as the trumpets and saxophones file out, laughing loudly at some stupid remark; and the woodwinds follow closely, murmuring among themselves.

The tubas are a entertaining to watch as they hobble through the maze of chairs and stands, occasionally cursing when the latter falls over, and why the Pit just shrugs and walks out with only their warm-up music in hand, Artemis does not know, but hey, that's their decision, so it's their problem. The rest of the band clears out, except for the weird little black-haired kid, who has not come out of that room as far as Artemis can tell, and she is grateful that none of the sections wanted to practice outside because that would've ruined her genius plan of not moving for the entirety of the camp.

Her aforementioned plan, however, still manages to be ruined when the door opens behind her and Artemis is forced to leap to the side, moving to press her back against the edge of the fourth step. A redhead wearing a white T-shirt jogs in, exclaiming speedily, "Sorry I'm late Mr. Wayne, but now the Wall-man is here and I'm ready to get this band camp start-"

He trips over nothing, the cooler he had been carrying skidding across the floor, and lands on his stomach, nose barely an inch from the front of Artemis's sneakers. A piece of hair falls onto his forehead, and Artemis watches in amusement as he lets out a puff of air that only succeeds in making it fall closer to his eyebrows and says in a much more dejected tone, "-ed?"

Mumbling something under his breath about 'stupid Karma' and evil doorways, the kid pulls his arms to his sides and pushes himself into a kneeling position, face beginning to mirror his hair as he realizes that Mr. Wayne had already come and gone. It is then that he finally realizes that, _hey, there's somebody directly in front of him, _and he freezes, face rising to peer up at Artemis.

Much to her disgust, Artemis's first thought is that he has nice eyes. They are the color of spring leaves and newly dewed grass, and she does her best those analogies out of her head because they are _not helping._ His eyebrows are the same shade as his hair, a lively red that looks like a campfire has settled on his head, becoming even more illuminated in the light that manages to reach him all the way over from the windows.

From what she can see of his arms that aren't hidden by his shirt, 'Wall-man' is muscular, but still maintains a slim build, and Artemis takes note of that as her eyes risk a quick glance at his lower torso and beyond, which is in a fairly good viewing position in her opinion.

Once she finishes observing his appearance, because to say she was admiring him would be stupid because she definitely _wasn't,_ Artemis looks back to his eyes and gives a crooked smirk at his dumbfounded expression.

"Wall-man, huh," she teases, and she tilts her head slightly, feeling her ponytail shift against her back. "And what, exactly, do you play?" Artemis's hands migrate from the straps of her book bag to her hips, and she cocks one out as a single eyebrow rises haughtily.

"Uh, who are you? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I didn't see you at freshmen orientation..." His voice, which sounds like a annoying bee flying right by her ear to Artemis, fades off, and he slowly clambers to his feet, snatching up his wayward cooler as he does so.

Artemis, deciding to ignore the fact that he didn't answer her question, begins to state proudly that her name is _Artemis, the new drummer, _but her voice shrivels up and dies in her throat as she recognizes that shock of red hair and fine-looking ass, though it had been covered in sleek black overalls instead of crimson shorts at the time.

She had been at the fourth competition, the very one where she had first seen Mr. Wayne, and she had swiftly decided that the hosting school's concessions was absolutely pitiful after waiting in line for at least twenty minutes. In fact, her and Cam had been discussing that very fact when the loud, raucous laugh had reached her ears.

Having turned out of pure curiosity, and, okay, _maybe_ because she felt like yelling at someone because it was fucking _cold_, Artemis had not not expecting to come across Roy Harper in all his pristine, uniformed glory. His inky pants had been pure and endless, not marred by the lint and hairs that had adorned Artemis's and Cam's uniforms; and the yellow jacket, however gaudy it had been, was still crisp and a wrinkle had seemed to be a foreign concept to that uniform.

Sunglasses had been perched on his nose, which had been too stupid for Artemis to comprehend because it had been 9:00 at night in _October_, and over the tops of them, blue eyes had shone. The color had been dull, hardly unique, but Artemis had still felt as if she was being looked over by an X-Ray, and that had unnerved her into silence.

Cam had cussed, a few obscenities under his breath that probably would've had perfect little Roy Harper gasping theatrically, and Artemis's eyes had roamed to Harper's side for just a few seconds.

A few seconds had been enough to glance over pale skin, a sea of freckles that looked like solid _masses_ in some places, bright red hair that made Harper's look like mud, and, of course, another fucking pair of _sunglasses_.

Freckles had been saying something about, "If I'm gonna be captain next year, gotta learn all the ropes, don't I?" He had pushed his glasses down and cast a sleazy smile Harper's way, but Artemis hadn't had time to get a good look at him without his eyes concealed, because in the next few seconds, Harper had seen Cam, and Artemis had finally been at the front of the line so she could order her goddamn hot chocolate, and it had gone to hell from there.

Never having a need revisit it, Artemis had all but banished the memory of those few seconds before the fight from her mind. In her opinion, her post-performance break hadn't really started until Harper's face had grown cold, and Cam had flipped him off, and suddenly, fists had been flying and the only thing Artemis had been aware of was her arms around Cam's chest, and _pulling_ because how can someone so skinny be so hard to move?

Security had shown up and, as punishment, Cam hadn't been allowed to represent drumline during the awards ceremony, instead forced to sit in the bleachers beside Artemis while creepy little Klarion Wichabeau had taken his place. It hadn't mattered much anyway because Happy Harbor had won 'Best Drumline' and Artemis had been forced to hold Cam down for the rest of the ceremony.

"Hey, are you okay?" Slender fingers snap a few times, and Artemis blinks, mouth snapping shut with fervency. The ginger - _Freckles_ - is standing directly in front of her, a single eyebrow raised in the exact manner she had used earlier, and Artemis feels like a fish out of water because suddenly pieces are falling into place and she doesn't like the puzzle it's making.

Freckles - Wall-man - _whatever the hell his name is_ - knows Roy Harper. He is a friend of Roy Harper. The very same Roy Harper whose picture hangs in the Gotham North drum room and has several darts sticking out of his nose. And he, judging by the snippet of conversation that Artemis had caught almost a year ago, is now the drum captain in Roy Harper's place.

Artemis shakes her head and looks at Mr. Drum Captain with a renewed scowl, the image of Cam's fat lip fresh in her mind. "I'm fine," she states, clipped and chilly, and she tells herself she doesn't care when Freckles's eyebrows furrow and his hair seems to droop pathetically.

"Ok-ay," he drawls, and he swings his arms a little, seemingly ignoring the large thunking coming from his cooler. "So, you never told me what you play...or your name."

For a moment, Artemis considers not answering, just spinning around and stalking out of this room and back into a life in she actually likes, but her train of thought is thoroughly wrecked when a new, younger voice pipes up.

"She's drumline. I mean, that's why you have sticks, right?" Artemis turns to find the small boy that had run through the room only a few minutes ago standing at the edge of the top step and fingering one of _her _drumsticks, and her only thought is _how the hell did he get that without her noticing?_

"Hey," she exclaims and lunges forward, hand clawing on the carpet as she tries to grab onto his ankle. The kid just leaps out of the way like a freaking_ monkey_, and laughs, which sends promptly ignored goosebumps up Artemis arms.

A quiet snigger joins in and she spins around to stare incredulously at the ginger behind her. Her shock soon turns to an absolutely _fantastic_ mixture of anger and embarrassment, and Artemis's shoulder scrunch up to her ears and she can feel her face turning red, so she says scathingly, "This is not funny! You're drum captain, aren't you? So _do something!"_

"He's also my best pal, though." Artemis jumps and looks down to find that goddamn kid standing right beside her, drumstick sticking out of his left hand at his side, and _what the hell is going on?_ "The most he'll do is make me give it to him, but that's only so he can get in on the fun, too." He turns to look up at her and Artemis's breath is taken away because she has never seen eyes so _blue_. He extends his drumstick-free hand to her and gives an impish grin, which makes Artemis's features soften the tiniest bit. "I'm Dick Grayson, snare-player extraordinaire. Nice to meet you."

Mirroring his actions and grasping his hand in her own, Artemis stoically nods. "Artemis. I, uh, I play snare."

His smile grows and the next thing she knows, there is a drumstick an inch from her nostril and she is randomly wondering if the blonde piccoloist managed to get her instrument out of her nose. "Guess you'll be needing this back then," Dick says, and Artemis slowly takes it, still confused by the twisted Wonderland she has seemingly stepped into.

"Thanks," she utters, her movements still sluggish as she slips her book bag off of one shoulder and slides it around until it is in front of her. The zipper is still fully done, she notices numbly, but the drumstick is definitely hers because who else tapes their practice sticks with dark green tape? She opens the largest pocket and drops the stick in, zipping it up and moving it onto her back again, still keeping one eye on Dick since that kid can clearly not be trusted.

"No problem." He puts his hands behind his back and rocks forward on his toes, and Artemis is surprised by how short he is. In Artemis's opinion, due to the fact that she has spent her entire life paying attention to detail, Dick being at least 4 inches shorter than her practically makes him a midget. But he couldn't be a freshman, because no _way_ is it possible for a freshman to be that comfortable on the first day of band camp. Artemis knows that from experience.

"You might want to take a picture. It lasts longer."

"Shut up, Wally," Dick says, not so much as sparing a glance at 'Wally', apparently choosing to keep studying Artemis in the same way she had been studying him.

Artemis, however, turns to look at the redhead and smirks disbelievingly. "You're name's really _Wally_," she asks, and Wally visually deflates, sending a pout in Dick's direction.

Dick doesn't notice, but he does shakily say, "Um, Wally?" Artemis looks over at Dick, whose lips are pressed together and whole body is trembling from the effort of not laughing, and finds herself grinning because, even though she just met him, she knows whatever it is that's got Dick like this, it has to be good.

"Yeah buddy?" Slightly more at ease than when he had been talking to Artemis, Wally turns to Dick and smiles, so genuine and open that Artemis feels a pang in her stomach, though she doesn't know why.

"Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I thought we had already established that the tickets to the pool on the fourth floor are fake." One of Dick's hands is covering his mouth and he is almost doubled over, making Wally's eyebrows furrow and Artemis's grin grow, even though she is completely confused at the prospect of a fourth floor pool.

"Yeah, we did. Why?"

Dick points down and it is then that Artemis notices that what she originally thought were running shorts are indeed bright red swimming trunks, and the shocked look on Wally's face makes the moment twice as cherished in her mind.

Mouth opening with every intention of saying some witty comment, Artemis is surprised when a laugh slips past her lips instead, flowing over her tongue like a waterfall on rocks. It is husky, as most of her laughs are, but somehow, it feels free and wild, like the wind in her hair and the porcelain handles of her mother's teacups against the pads of her fingers. White teeth peek past the pink of her mouth and Artemis's hand comes to hover in front of her face, the other grasping her gut as she doubles over.

Out of the corner of her eye, Artemis catches Wally staring at her, and she wants to tell him that just because he probably thinks she's a snake from the depths of hell doesn't mean she isn't capable of laughing - at his misery, at least. But she refrains herself and instead watches with crinkled eyes as Wally's face grows red and his mouth opens and closes several times with no sound coming out.

Finally, after sending several glares at the cackling Dick, Wally rounds and Artemis and points a shaking finger at her chest. Artemis looks down, a small smile still hidden behind her hand, and listens with as little attention possible as Wally practically growls, "Get into the drum room. Now."

At first she thinks of refusing, but the memory of doing twenty pushups for Cam on her first day of freshman band camp resurfaces, and instead Artemis just gives a long sigh, hands returning to their spot on the straps of her book bag. She doesn't miss the way Wally's eyes dart to the area between her hands, though, or the smallest of smirks that spreads across his face.

Eyes narrowed, Artemis turns on her heel, hair whipping out and catching Wally in the face, and saunters off to where she can work her way up to the top step, being sure to put a little more swing in her hips than usual just to remind Wally of the fact that she is way out of his league, and calls over her shoulder, "Whatever, _Baywatch"_

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**AN: I'm basing HHHS on my own school, so all the little details like the tickets for the swimming pool on the fourth floor? Completely true. But my school isn't as rich as HHHS is. Trust me.) The blonde piccoloist with her instrument stuck up her nose was Cassie and the green haired kid that threw the popcorn was Gar. We'll be sure to see more of them and some other people from Season 2. **

**Anyway, school starts on Monday, so updates will _definitely_ slow down. Sorry, but it's a necessary evil.**

**(And Artemis, someone needs to clean your mouth out with soap. Jeez.)**

**-GSDLover**


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